Necromancer's Evolutionary Traits Chapter 46 Mga Nobela at Kwento

His face was a mask of horror as he realized the Necromancer had taken control of his body. The Necromancer edged himself forward in his chair. He stretched his thick arms out over the table, fleshy palms facing down, and began to chant softly. In response to his spell, the black surface of the table began to change, becoming opaque. Hundreds of tiny white ovals began to appear, seemingly floating within the dark depths of the table. As the Necromancer continued his summoning, the shapes grew brighter and clearer, until they became recognizable as pairs of eyes, imprisoned within the magical table.

The grave hadn’t only held Reive under the ground but also diminished his magic powers and didn’t allow him to restore them. Still, the necromancer had tried. All these years. Every time he noticed some warm-blooded creature run across his field, he fell upon it through the ground with the ghostly cords of the Dark, sucking out its life and magic in their entirety. They were usually foxes, moles or hares. Sometimes, when a human being came into sight, the necromancer tried to kill him, too. But the last time this had happened was so long ago that Reive didn’t even remember whether he’d managed to do it. Mages usually resisted, and only complete non-mages were helpless against Reive.

The healer gapes at him before looking down at the warrior, whose chest is moving slightly. “Thank you,” the healer whispers. Kieran addresses Kael and me now. “The rot. I can track them through the rot.” Hope flares, hot and desperate. “How? What do you mean?” I ask him. “Necromancy leaves a signature.” His hands begin to move in intricate patterns, magic gathering around his fingers. “Death corrupts everything it touches. The air, the ground, the very fabric of reality. It rots.” His eyes meet mine grimly. “And rot always leaves a trail.”

“Even without the relic, it lives inside you.” I shook my head. “I destroyed it.” “You burned the vessel,” she corrected. “Not the source. It’s in your blood now.” Kael groaned on the floor. My hands trembled. “So what do I do?” Nyra smiled, fierce and sharp. “You rewrite fate.” I turned to the battle. Necros was bleeding silver now—proof he was still part celestial. But he was stronger than ever, feeding on chaos, on fear, on every moment of pain we’d suffered.

Necromancy was unnatural so nature was sure to put up a fight. Strange! No lack of air or strange weather. Maybe nature wanted this. "...Hear my beckoning and step into the light." This time nature fought back. The greens surrounding me turned black. Nature was snuffing life out of its creation. Being a creature of the divine mother herself, I dropped to the floor literally feeling the life in need gradually draining. It became a huge task to breathe and it worsened. Nature wasn't going to let the abominable repeat itself. Just when I thought it was over for me, Nature gave up the fight.

Aeneas and his brother are expectant, all the others turn to their wolves as well and Pearl sits next to me. "First things first, my brother has the ability to numb your powers, isolate them if you would like." He pauses to let that information sink, and everyone seems a bit scared after hearing it. "He will block abilities from many races and this will cause a reaction from them. But do not believe for a second that it will weaken our enemy. The necromancers have made deals with the dead, and those deals include a strength that is now part of them. So taking them away from their casting abilities will only cause confusion for a short while, then they will retaliate quickly and with an inhum

His eyes appeared red-rimmed as he replied hoarsely, "I honestly do not know" Evelyn mumbled, "My father used to say that a mage's offspring carried a recessive gene which can become a dominant gene in his/her offspring. But it was a rare phenomenon and my father always laughed it off, saying it was a myth". Her mother had a rueful smile on her lips and a distant look in her eyes.

Whether it had been changing limbs, losing ‘a stubborn personality’ or adding something to ‘fortify’ their blood. He wanted a fortified army that was unquestionably loyal only to him and would do exactly as he wanted. Dean had read through no more than five pages before he made up his mind that this was a necromancer creating custom undead. The tome included how overjoyed that he would not have to feed his army as they could and would eat from what was left on the battlefield.

Whenever the former emperor saw him, he always had a look of displease on his face; it was as if he saw Marcus as a nuisance. At first, when he was younger, he longed for the former emperor's approval. Hence, he tried his best on everything. Hoping that one day, the former emperor would be proud of him. Unfortunately, all of those were only his wishful thinking. As Marcus was too different from the former emperor and exceeded on everything especially in magic, he realized that he was often compared to the former emperor. It became worse when it was disclosed how his mana was too immense and his potential was too high. That in a few years time, he could become the youngest archmage in history

Lariempi replied softly “But I can make it up to you.” He added after a moment of silence “How?” Amelia asked as she finally turned around to take a look at the god who took up the form of a dashing young man “I can help you evolve and become stronger so you can have you revenge.” He replied “Have my revenge? But the monster is already dead.” Amelia exclaimed “This mystic beast is not the first to slip into the mortal world and it won’t be the last, your husband is just one of several that has died and will die by their claws.” Lariempi said emotionlessly